Wendigo's Cut (English)
by Ale-chan
Summary: Camus is meant to hunt a Wendigo, a north american creature that enjoys eating human flesh. Unfortunately, the mission will turn out to be more complicated than what he expected and he will end up having a small accident. MiloShipFest's closure fanfic.


**Wendigo's Cut**

Camus was immobile for several minutes in the pasture of the taiga. His hands trembled and his agitated breathing had ceased to exhale vapor for some time. He arrived to northern Alberta less than eight hours ago and his whole body seemed to be about to succumb to hypothermia. The Aquarius Saint was more than used to temperatures below —20 °C; however, the humidity accentuated the cold sensation, which penetrated even deeper than the dry Siberian blizzards. He was exhausted, irritated and tremendously frustrated for what he believed was a poor performance in his mission.

Athena had sent him to America in order to investigate a series of disappearances in northern Canada. The information he received from the few affected cities turned out to be insufficient and he had to move towards the border with the Northwest Territories. Once he got there, all he had to do was to cross a few words with the inhabitants of the indigenous settlements, in order to find out the actual cause of the attacks.

Even before arriving to the continent, Camus suspected that the phenomenon was caused by a supernatural creature. However, he could never imagine that creature would be a Wendigo. Much more used to diplomatic missions than to monster—hunting, Camus never bothered to study North American folklore and thus, he had to spend a couple of hours with one of the aborigines to learn as much as possible about such a terrifying creature. Still, the truth was that nothing would have prepared him to encounter a Wendigo one face to face.

He found it in the depths of a coniferous forest. Finding it was easy due to the trail of blood that it left behind him and the sharp shrieks of help that it emitted in order to lure new victims. The creature was at least two meter tall and it stood up with difficulty over its extremely long legs. Its skeletal fingers finished in large and sharp claws and its head resembled that of an elk with sunken eyes and sharp fangs.

The natives explained to him that the Wendigo were human beings who violated the taboo of eating human flesh. Not even in moments of extreme starvation, they were allowed to cross that line and the fear of becoming a famished and insatiable creature for the rest of eternity used to dissuade people from resorting to cannibalism. Camus knew that the reality ought to be another. Only the Gods were capable of turning humans into any creature and, if it were that simple to turn into a Wendigo, then they would be more than common in several regions around the planet. Camus needed to eliminate that monster at all costs and he found it comforting to know that he wasn't dealing with a human being.

Camus lunged against the Wendigo in hopes of defeating him with only a couple of thrusts. However, he underestimated its speed and its ability to use the thick forest as a hideout. He chased it for five minutes until he led it to a wide prairie and only there did he have enough space to launch an attack that froze the creature's legs and immobilized it. Without hesitation, Camus lifted his right arm with the intention of killing the monster —who was already preparing its claws to counterattack— once and for all. However, Camus was much faster than the Wendigo and he beheaded it with a clean cut.

The Aquarius Saint believed that that would be the last thing he would have to bear from that bothersome mission, but as the Wendigo's body fell backwards, a freezing gust of wind blew over his nape. His head felt unusually light and, instinctively, he looked around to find out what had happened. Different from what he expected, the only thing keeping the creature partially on its feet was the column of ice that still held its legs. Moreover, there weren't any other enemies nearby.

He had to take two steps back, shake his head and place his hands over his nape before realizing what had actually happened. Although the Wendigo hadn't been fast enough to hurt him, its claws cut off his long mane. Slowly, he slid his fingers around his head and acknowledged the damage: most of his hair had disappeared.

He loudly cursed in Russian and rubbed his face with both hands. It was an insult that such a stupid monster could have touched a Gold Saint. His pride had been marred because he underestimated the Wendigo and he was terrified of the mere idea to return to Sanctuary.

He was certain that everyone would be surprised to see him with short hair. Would he dare to tell them the truth? How could he confess that he had been clumsy enough to allow a monster to ruin his hair? How could he pretend he didn't care? He then thought of Milo and his kind way of curling his fingers into his reddish locks and the enraptured smile that he gave him every time he saw him brushing his hair.

Although Milo would have never admitted to it, there was no doubt that he loved Camus' hair. He loved admiring it from the distance, during trainings, or closer, scattered all over his bed sheets. He constantly praised its softness, the intensity of its colour and its fresh smell of shampoo. Occasionally, on cold evenings when he was too tired to do anything else, he entertained himself braiding it in the most extravagant fashions that Camus didn't even know existed.

The Frenchman didn't even want to imagine how his boyfriend would react once he found out that the object of his devotion had been so cruelly maimed. He knew him well enough to know that a haircut wouldn't be a cause of break—up, but he was afraid of facing his condescension and pity.

A particularly strong air current ruffled what little hair Camus still had, causing him to shiver. Camus hadn't worn his hair so short for over sixteen years and he wasn't used to the windy sensation in his neck. Besides, his mood was so foul that he was unable to modulate his Cosmo to protect himself from the cold. He decided that he had wasted enough time and, thus, he headed back to Sanctuary right after finding a professional hairdresser that could fix his new hairstyle.

During his walk through the Twelve Temples he received prying eyes and heard surprised remarks about himself. "Is that Aquarius Camus?" "What happened to his hair?" "I wouldn't have recognized him without his Cloth." Camus tolerated them in silence and crossed the Temples as fast as he could. Thank to heavens, the few comrades he met on his way limited themselves to greet him and glance at him discretely, while a maid in Scorpio informed him the Eighth Saint had also left for a mission and that he wouldn't be back before the sunset.

Athena and the Pope masked their astonishment throughout his entire report and only the Goddess dared to make a quick comment:

"Are you alright, Camus?"

"Do not worry, Athena. The Wendigo was fast, but it couldn't hurt me"

The Goddess straightened her lips and, for a moment, it seemed she was going say something else. However, she eventually held back and limited herself to dismiss Camus right after expressing her gratitude for his hard work.

After that, Camus decided to lock himself inside his Temple for the rest of the afternoon —or his entire life, he still wasn't sure— and he prayed that Milo wouldn't return from his mission until the next day. It seemed he was going to get away with it, since by the time night had fallen Milo was still yet to return. Feeling more relaxed, he got into bed with the sole company of the novel he was reading at the moment.

He was starting to doze off when he heard someone knock on his bedroom door. He instantly recognized Milo's Cosmo and he knew that it was too late to hide, so he gave in and got ready for what it was about to come. He let him in and Camus thought that the door opened excoriatingly slow.

Milo appeared before him and Camus counted five seconds before his usual smile broke into a look of terror.

"CAMUS!", he yelled. In less than a second he climbed over the bed and held his shoulders. "What happened to your hair?!"

Camus sighed, left his book on the nightstand and with one hand he got free from his lover's grasp.

"I thought it was time for a change"

Once again the Greek extended his hands towards him and examined a strand of hair that couldn't be longer than five centimeters.

"A change? Changing hairstyle is a change, this is..."

"Temporary", he interjected. "It will grow back, don't worry"

Milo let out a long and sonorous exhale and allowed part of his weight fall over Camus.

"I know, I know. But you loved your hair! You always brushed and conditioned it"

It was true. Camus had to admit he was vain and the centre of his attention was his hair. Unless his duties kept him too busy, he brushed it at least three times a day and he went as far as moisturizing it twice a month. Asking for a maid's aid to blunt his hair was something he did with rigorous religiosity and he hated it when the result wasn't identical to what he expected it to be. However, he did all that with the sole purpose of making Milo happy, since the Greek delighted himself with the beauty and softness of his hair.

"I wasted too much time in that. Now I will be able to make more of my day"

Milo hugged him and laid his head on his shoulder.

"I still think you were too drastic. Where's the rest of it?"

"I don't know. Probably lost somewhere in the Canadian pastures"

Camus only realized what he had said when Milo sat up and nearly pinched him against the mattress.

"Pasture? Did something happen in Alberta? Who did this to you?"

Camus had a hard time struggling against Milo's firm grasp but, after a couple of shakes, he managed to push him hard enough to get him out of his way.

"I fought against a Wendigo. I am not as good a hunter as you are and I slightly miscalculated. It's not important".

"It's not important?! It could have cut your neck!"

"Stop overacting, Milo. It was absolutely inconsequential, alright?"

Milo pouted but ended up nodding and kissing Camus on his forehead.

"Alright. It's not as though a haircut could make you any less beautiful".

As it would usually happen whenever the blond man spoke those absurdities, Camus blushed and looked away.

"You're so silly"

Milo responded with a quick peck on his lips and climbed off the bed.

"You look tired. Sleep. I will take a shower in the meantime".

To Camus it seemed to be a terrible plan, since he hated falling asleep only to be awakened ten minutes later by Milo's insistence to make love. However, he was so tired that he soon forgot about his concern and fell asleep. It wasn only until the following morning that he realized that Milo didn't woke him up after his shower.

He tried not to think much of it.

Milo kept that strange attitude throughout the following days. He wouldn't stop sighing and looking at Camus as if he would break down in tears at any time. He also kept reminding Camus of how beautiful he was and how much he loved him, and his insistence was such that the Frenchman began to fear that Milo only repeated those words to convince himself that they were indeed true. To make matters worse, Milo had lost all sexual interest overnight. Camus hadn't taken the initiative either and, therefore, they hadn't had sex since the mission. The situation irritated Camus to unimaginable extremes and he couldn't stop thinking that the change was triggered by his haircut.

The Aquarius Saint's bad mood increased day after day until it reached its breaking point a week and a half later. He would have borne with that situation for a bit longer if it wasn't for the fact that Death Mask had made a stupid comment about his hair and Milo completely lost it. A fight broke out during the training session and Kanon and Aphrodite had to intervene to stop them from completely destroying the Coliseum. Camus didn't stay long enough to witness how they appeased the duo. Since always, he abhorred when Milo acted as though he didn't believe him capable of fighting his own battles, especially when he did it in front of their comrades. It hurt his ego and made him feel that Milo didn't trust his ability to defend himself either with fists or words.

He walked fast towards his Temple and wasn't surprised when Milo caught up with him five minutes later.

"Forgive me Camus!" exclaimed the Greek as soon as he entered the private area of the Aquarius Temple. "I know you hate it when I interfere with your fights, but this time Death Mask went too far".

Camus sat on one of his marble benches and crossed his arms.

"He asked if I had cut my hair for having bubblegum stuck to it. He acted like a little kid and you played along".

"Why are you like this, Camus? Why do you pretend that you don't care about your hair when it is obvious that it still hurts?"

The accusation outraged the Frenchman, whose face violently blushed.

"Where did you get that from? I've told you a thousand times that I don't care. It's you who can't seem to accept that now I have shorter hair!"

"What?!"

"Do you think I haven't noticed? You keep looking at me with sad puppy eyes. I never thought you could be so vain".

"Wait a moment. If I am sad it's because you are sad. You have been ever since you came back from Canada!"

Camus' eyes opened wide and he pondered on Milo's words. He hated to admit it, but he had indeed saddened because of his forceful change. As usual, Milo had seen right through him and got concerned. However, he refused to accept that all that situation had been triggered because of him.

"If so, then why haven't we...?"

Unable to continue, he lowered his face and shut his eyes.

"Why haven't we what?"

"Why haven't we had sex?"

Milo opened his mouth in awe and his face got filled with indignation.

"Are you kidding? With the foul mood you've had all week? I'm afraid to even talk to you! If I do it's because I want to cheer you up! That's why I don't stop reminding you how beautiful you are!"

Milo's excuse sounded ridiculous to him. The man had used sex as a means of reconciliation a hundred times before and, if he was holding back now it could only mean one thing.

"Admit that you loved my hair and that it hurt you when I cut it".

Milo frowned and pressed his lips together.

"I loved your hair because you loved it and because it was important for you. That's why it hurt me when you had to cut it".

Camus swallowed and closed the distance between them.

"Do you remember what was the first thing you ever told me?" Milo didn't seem to understand what he was talking about. "When we were kids and you just arrived to the Sanctuary, do you remember what you told me?"

Milo looked away and a fierce blush covered his cheeks.

"That your hair was like the fire and that it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life".

Camus smirked triumphantly and turned his back on Milo.

"There you are. How couldn't I be sad for my hair when I knew that you loved it ever since?"

"And you think I would stop loving you just because it is shorter now?"

"No..." he admitted, "but now I see it was more important to you than what I ever thought it could be".

Camus was sure that Milo would defend himself. However, the next thing he heard was Milo turning around and leaving the room. The Aquarius Saint exhaled wearily and sat once again on the bench.

Everything had gone out of control.

* * *

Milo returned to the Temple of Aquarius later that night. Camus didn't expect him to be back so soon and so he was taken by surprise just as he finished showering. Scorpio hadn't even bothered to ask for permission to enter his bedroom and he was the first thing he met the moment he walked out of the bathroom. The next thing he saw was much more alarming: Milo's long mane had disappeared.

"Milo?" he stuttered. "Your hair..."

"I thought it was time for a change..." he answered from his sit on the bed.

Camus was overwhelmed. He had never seen Milo without his long golden curls and he could hardly believe that he'd had the guts to cut them. Milo was much more conceited than him and, although he didn't look after his hair as diligently as Camus, that didn't mean that he didn't care about it. It was almost as if he was looking at an entirely different person and he couldn't help but look away.

"Why did you do that?"

Milo showed him a faint smile.

"Because I am a child and I wanted to teach you a lesson". Camus gulped and walked until he could stand before him. "I wanted to prove you that I could love you with or without your hair. I wanted you to realize that looks weren't important and that something as stupid as a haircut wouldn't make a difference".

Camus smiled and slid his fingers through Milo's short curls.

"Of course it doesn't make the difference, silly".

Milo lifted his hand and interlaced his fingers with Camus'.

"However, my plan didn't work as I expected", he put Camus' hand over his lips and kissed it gently. "When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I understood how you felt. I understood your sadness for losing such an important part of your body and also..." he remained silent for a moment, "and I also understood your fear. I was afraid you wouldn't find as attractive".

Camus leant towards him.

"You are an idiot". He gently kissed his head. "But I suppose this time something good came out of your follies", Milo held him around his waist and pressed his face against Camus' abdomen. "Death Mask will make fun of you for a long time".

"So what? Everyone knows he is jealous because he cannot wear long hair. He's going bald ever since he turned twenty two".

Camus chuckled and gently caressed Milo's nape.

"You are right, Camus: I loved your hair. I'm sorry I didn't understand your feelings before".

"I guess I'm sorry too", he broke free from the embrace and sat on the Greek's legs. "If I wanted to be with you that much, I should have taken the initiative".

He wrapped his arms around Milo's neck and pulled him closer for a profound kiss.

That night Camus not only made up with Milo, but he also discovered that it was easier to entangle with him between the sheets when their manes were out of the way. Who would have thought that something good would come out of his encounter with the Wendigo?

 **Author's Note:** Well, after a very, very, VERY long wait, here it is: the commemorative story for 2017's Milo Ship Fest. This is a translation of the story of the same name written on Spanish. My eternal gratitude to Virgin of Aquarius for the translation work and, of course, Gochy for betaing it (is that a word?). Thank you both so much for doing what I was too lazy to do. Also, I would like to thank once again Usagi Sushi for the prompt.

I hope this is a decent thank-you for all the beautiful people who participated on the event. We hope you had lots of fun and that you enjoyed all the beautiful wonderful fanwork! See you around!


End file.
